Nezumi Vs The Sky
by DangoLovesYou
Summary: Nezumi faces his biggest challenge yet: parenthood. Fail description for a funny fic. May turn into a series of one-shots, but one for now.


_Ew. _

What is the purpose of these things, anyway, and why do they have one? It seems completely useless. Who needs babies? They just spit and poop and sleep and cry. Hoorah, who wouldn't want a part of that action?

Nezumi scowls down at the baby writhing in its crib and mindlessly nibbling on its own toes. Wait, is toe-biting a bad thing? Better safe than sorry.

"Baby, cease." The child does, in fact, cease, and Nezumi smirks, completely pleased with himself. At least, until it stares straight into his eyes and begins to cry. "Are you taunting me on purpose, you little meatloaf?"

Nezumi straightens himself from where he's been bent over the crib and calls through the entire tiny apartment, "Shion, the baby's broken!"

"Unless it fell, it's probably not broken, Nezumi," Shion says breathily as he stumbled into the living room, dress pants half on and his good white shirt unbuttoned.

"Look at you, all snazzy for the office," Nezumi comments, happily ignoring the child in favor of buttoning Shion's shirt and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Trying to suck up to the boss, are we?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't want to live in a one-room apartment as part of a three-person family forever." Shion grabs his shoes and a briefcase sitting by the door, blows Nezumi a kiss like the awkward airhead he is, and heads off to what is surely Hell. It's interesting, though, Nezumi thinks, to make that tradeoff, because the 4-inch apartment with this absurd child is kind of Hell, too.

Turning around, Nezumi finds the still-shrieking infant to be sort of rolling back and forth on its back. With a brief sigh, he picks it up and holds it at arm's length with a bored expression.

"Why are you doing that?" … No response. "Stop it, baby." It might be Nezumi's imagination, but it actually seems to cry louder at that. "Aw, come on! What do you want from me? Money? I don't have much!" It's been, oh, ten hours, and this thing has already driven him completely insane.

It is only when his own stomach growled demandingly does it occur to Nezumi that it might be a hunger problem. So, with a sufficiently disgusted expression, he carries the infant over to the kitchen.

He only returned last night, of course, so he has zero idea where anything is. In fact, the only reason he knows the location of the kitchen itself is because he had shown up exhausted and famished and Shion had gotten him some soup. And, well, the apartment only has so much room. The soup is gone now, and the kitchen is surprisingly clean, save a couple dishes in the sink. So, where to find the food.

Taking the baby in one arm, pointing it outward, he rummages through the fridge with his free hand and pulled up random items- a jar of jam, a takeout leftover package, some leftover lasagna- and waited for some sign of approval. When he set back in the last container of refried beans, with no winning option in sight, he finally remembers that maybe babies don't eat solid food.

Huh.

And, sure enough, in a cupboard next to some bottles was a powder labeled "BABY FOOD" in big condescending letters. Two minutes and a cup of water later, he has a baby drinking from a bottle and a slower throb in his headache.

How the hell did Shion take care of this thing before? He wouldn't have just left it alone in the apartment, would he? Nah, even Nezumi knows not to do that to a child. Baby still in hand, he pops some bread in the toaster and wanders over to some papers on the good-for-nothing fridge. On it, he finds a few business cards, most of which hold giant red X's, for child care options. Scribbled on them in red ink are little issues. "Unsafe conditions, too expensive, wrong age group, medical history required." Only one card has a red circle, and it is half-nestled in an otherwise empty envelope labeled, "daycare fund."

Well, that explains that, Nezumi figures, going back for his toast. No money, no daycare. It must have been hard for Shion, trying to find a good care center for this child that was barely even his. When Shion was starting his new life, trying to find a job and a place to live with the rest of No. 6 and West Block, he had to do so at 16 and with a child he didn't plan for. Oddly proud of his little airhead, Nezumi allowed himself an uncharacteristic grin as he nibbled.

The baby was asleep before long, full and warm in Nezumi's arms. With a sigh of relief, he set the infant back in its crib and wandered away, meandering about the tiny home. Bed, tiny closet, drippy bathroom, child in crib, couch, old computer, bookshelves, bookshelves, cleaning supplies, baby stuff. This could only be Shion's home, considering how neat everything is and how all of the furniture is perfectly aligned and coordinated in color, size, and feng-shui positioning. Oh, Shion. Why.

"BLEEECH!"

Purely on instinct, Nezumi drops to the ground and whips out his pocket knife. He sneaks about on his knees, searching the apartment for the source of whatever noise had disturbed the peaceful silence. The baby is awake, he hears, now cooing and fidgeting in its confinement. There appear to be no intruders, but he whips his scarf off a coatrack and uses it as a cloak, just to be safe. When he reaches the crib, Nezumi finally discovers the horridness.

The baby spewed. All over itself and the blankets around it, baby spew is soaking.

"I've gotten into alley fights more pleasant than this, baby," Nezumi murmurs, looking at the upset child. It's frowning and foaming at the mouth like some rabid marsupial. "Baby, you are disgusting," he declares, louder now, as he picks up the child and lifts it away from the soiled bedding. It is then that he realizes he doesn't know what exactly he is to do.

It's just an infant, I'll handle it, he figures, so he'll just wing it. How hard can it be to clean up a baby and some sheets and things?

Pretty hard, it seems. Five minutes later, he has a hopelessly wailing sack of young flesh on one hip, in nothing more than now wet diaper, and the washing machine is foaming over with more soap and water than Nezumi the Rogue has seen in all his life.

He really just hopes Shion isn't on his way home.

He's Nezumi, after all. Tough, yet sophisticated. Capable of anything he sets his mind to and more. He can fight off entire armies for weeks on end with nothing more than a rat or two and the clothes on his back. Surely, he can take care of this child. He took care of Shion months ago, right? Shion was a child then, all auburn-haired and bubbly. This one is even younger. Should be even easier. Less will, less competition for authority, less yap. The infant screams in his ear. So maybe not less yap. Seriously, though, if Shion could tend for this blubbering blob of flesh, the legendary Nezumi, whose name strikes fear into the hearts of many, can turn it into the most respectable blubbering blob of flesh the world has ever seen. There is no way he will allow Shion to come home and see his failure. No. Instead, he must conquer, triumph! He must earn the esteem, the reverence, the taunting rights! Such delicious taunting rights!

The diaper pressed into his thigh feels warm. He groans.

Somewhere, over the sound of the sputtering washing machine and the sobbing child, another sound begins echoing through the place. A phone. Holding the baby under his arm, Nezumi shifts his priorities and, after one final punch to the infernal contraption before him, dashes to answer it.

"Shion? You said you were going to call me last ni—"

"KARAN!" He didn't think of that. How fortunate. Perhaps the gods are pitying him.

"Shion?"

"No, no, it's Nezumi!"

"Nezumi? NEZUMI! What are you doing over there? Where's Shion? Is that Sora? What's on Ear—"

"Sora? You mean this screaming thing? Please, I'll explain, just help me before I lose my sanity!"

"Of course, of course. What's happening?

"Well, there's a crying baby that won't stop soiling itself, and a broken washing machine, and I am not a parent!"

Karan is a genius, Nezumi thinks, when the washing machine has stopped and he's getting a free diapering tutorial.

"Did it stop crying?" Karan practically purrs over the line.

"Yes, I think it's done.

"Bweh, ba, bwaaa!"

"Are you making a liar out of me, you little spit sack?!" Nezumi shouts, yanking the phone away from his ear and towering over the infant with his most intimidating expression.

"Nezumi! Do not call Sora a spit sack, do you understand me? I will not stand for it. That's my grandson!" She snaps, and Nezumi totally understands every comment about The Mother-In-Law he's ever heard.

"Fine, but how do I make it stop?"

"Well, he might have a stomach bug," she starts, pausing to let Nezumi groan, "Or he could be cold. Nezumi always keeps his apartment like a refrigerator."

It is pretty chilly in there, and the fact that it's a stormy day doesn't help, either. The sun hasn't been out in hours. Nezumi glances out to check how hard it's raining and notices all the clothes and blankets on the line, "drying".

"Yeah, that's probably it," he says, holding the phone between shoulder and chin as he grabs the kid and wanders around, trying to find some baby clothes or something.

"Oh, Nezumi? I'm sorry, I have quite a few customers, I have to go now. You can give Shion a call if you need anything else, and I expect another this evening, okay? It was lovely talking to you. I'll see you soon!" And then she hangs up before he can get a word.

Had he been able to say something, it probably would have been, "Wait, there aren't any baby clothes that aren't soiled," or "But there aren't any clean baby clothes," or perhaps, "Why didn't you teach your son that rain is wet?"

Instead, he shouts "WAIT!" to a dialtone and sighs as the baby screams up at him.

He's glaring at Shion when, hours later, he walks in. While Nezumi has battled to keep the place something close to under control (but let's face it, that battle kicked his butt fair and square until the last few minutes), Shion gets to come in from the rain to find a clean hope, a sleeping baby in a microfiber scarf, warm pasta on the stove, and a lover who he hasn't seem much of in months. Everything is honkey dory for the airhead, as always.

"Just like old times," Nezumi whispers bitterly as Shion takes off his jacket and curls up into Nezumi on the couch.

He can't help but smile reluctantly, though, as Shion plants his lips gently on his cheek and whispers, "I couldn't have done it better myself."

A/N-

I did one-shot. Perhaps series?

Also, in case you didn't get the title, Sora means Sky in Japanese.


End file.
